


Red

by PrettyWhizzer (NargleAdvocate)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Colors, Gen, Gun Violence, Historical Accuracy, Hurt No Comfort, Short, Violence, War, just a short prose-like version of Lauren's death, laurens interlude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NargleAdvocate/pseuds/PrettyWhizzer
Summary: As far as John could see there was red. Red coats, red eyes, red blood. Massacre, is what some would call it.Laurens is getting sick of red.





	Red

The sunset was gorgeous that day. On the horizon was a collage of colors so calming and vivid: a subtle orange- coral almost, a silvery purple, a fuzzy pink akin to cotton candy, and patches of green like the grass in a field on a warm summer's day. Anyone who glanced up at the sky in that moment agreed it was the most stunning thing seen in years. So it was funny, in a way that only a few people would awkwardly laugh at, that a battle taking place below it would be such a juxtaposition.

As far as John could see there was red. Red coats, red eyes, red blood. Massacre, is what some would call it. His eyes watered and his fingers shook on the trigger of his gun. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, the gunpowder surrounding him was just like the red. Battle were always he same: the swear, gunpowder, and blood, so much damn blood. The haunting look of the open eyes of soldiers who were splayed across the ground.

John was always bothered by that. Everyone was the same in death, same unblinking eyes, same twisted limbs, same color red dripping so slowly out of their bodies and staining the ground, their uniforms, their hands. Sometimes John wondered if he'd turn up in the afterlife with the same red hands and pale face. It always seemed a more tangible concept when he looked down the barrel of a gun before watching that man collapse and stain everything red too. He was lucky that way, or unlucky, he supposed. It was only a matter of time before that ran out.

And then there was red, so much red, in his vision and on his hands and in the pain that spread across his abdomen, and in seconds he was off his horse and on the ground. The red spread, he cried out in agony, but this is war, and no one stops. No one stops.

He peeled his eyes open and stared at the sky, the brilliant sky, thinking about the best friend he ever had. Gasping for breath, he thought of the man who was ignited with a fire that drew John in, a man who was chaos and never serenity, a man who stood by John when he duelled, a man who anyone would pay for a chance to listen to. John looked up at the sky and thought of Hamilton, thought about how the clashing colors of that man's personality made him stunning, and how John was just red. Red, like the liquid leaking out of him, and red, like the color of the coats left torn and discarded on the ground. He thinks that maybe he would have liked more time, but he was sick of the red anyways.

And then, everything stopped.

* * *

It's a letter, and Hamilton knew he didn't have time for letters, he had so much damn work to do. He could feel it coursing through his veins, he wasn't done yet, he wasn't done yet. There were ideas floating around him, he just needed to catch them and put them down on paper with enough eloquence to be convincing. John didn't mind slightly delayed letters, he understood. But there's something in Eliza's voice, and he knows there's something wrong, but no, there can't be anything wrong, the war was over and he had a constitution to defend.

"Will you read it?"

Eliza began, and Hamilton's heart sinks as soon as she starts, and there's a pain in his chest as soon as she reaches the word 'Laurens' because he knew what that meant and he knew that everything was wrong.

Killed. Killed. Killed. Killed. Gunfight. Buried. Remains. Returned. Killed. Killed. Killed.

"Alexander are you alright?"

"I have so much work to do."


End file.
